Seeing you reminds me of everything,
Let's start with the night you confessed your love.
How exactly those words sent me emotions I have never felt before.
You remind me of all those sleepless nights,
the sweet talks,
sharing of all summer adventure pictures,
the "good morning" messages that I see first thing in the morning and the "good night"s that put me to sleep, both sealed with an emoji of a kiss.
I am reminded of how the "I love you" was perfectly spoken, the night we danced our heart away with the rhythm of our love's melody.
Seeing you somehow send me flashbacks of the things we did,
the exchanging of glances,
teasing of childhood crushes,
sharing of problems
and how you try to cope up with my depression and anxieties.
Seeing you makes me remember how you've made me feel as though I have grasped the whole universe while I only seek for the stars, yet seeing you is also holding a rose with thorns that I cannot loose grip of for it's what I like amongst all.
You remind me of how I wanted to shout and cry out the agony buried deep down inside.
You remind me of how I got to blame myself several times for being the pessimistic, doubtful and hardest person to love.
You remind me of the chances I was afraid to take, just to tell you everything; to thank you for everything.
Seeing you makes me recall the day I sent you a long message that I have constructed for days,
and how I only received a single 'seen'.
I am reminded of how I try to blew out whatever that keeps holding me back from clarifying things.
I am reminded of the questions inside my mind as if those were bombs you planted inside, that may explode anytime.
I am reminded of how I tried to rip those words off my chest only to get answers.
Seeing you reminds me of how I almost lost respect to myself, how I constantly apologized when I really have none to apologize for, because I was only being me— a messy one.
You made me recall the moment when I almost look desperate and how I reminded myself not to beg you if ever your love ceases to be.
Seeing you gives me the pain.
I am still haunted by the memories,
tamed by emotions,
slaved by "what ifs",
and beguiled by a glimpse of what could have been.
Your eyes speak to me of how loving you became a poison yet a subtle form of self-destruction.
You made me create poems, I became a poet.
A poet who wasn't too good with words yet in an inexplicable way, found the poetry as a therapy.
I have become a poet– where I speak of our daunted love, as you tried taking risks yet I was too much afraid to trust.
You remind me of the painful poems I am writing because of your existence.
You remind me of the words of chaos and pain that bleed underneath my skin and how I let it bleed through paper and pen.
You remind me of us and how everything ended in just a snap.
You remind me of how I haven't become enough and our wasted love.
You remind me of an almost that I will always search for a sight of things unseen because it has ended before it begin.
If seeing you would only let you see through me. My love, look at me in the eye, the soul hiding behind its windows, will tell you that I stayed still.
My love, nothing has changed, it has always been you since then.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry & Stories
شِعرA collection of my originally made poems. Someone just triggered the poet out of me. Stories and open letters are also included, these are the things I cannot tell him.
